Red Rain

“But you had nothing to do with the murder.”

“Don’t be naive, sweetheart. Does that matter? It happened in our fucking driveway. If the details are released. . Can you see the front of the Post?”

“I’m so sorry, honey. I can’t hear. I’ll text you my jitney.”

A soft click. Then silence. The connection was lost.

Mark headed to the bar against the den wall. I need something stronger than wine.

And then he felt a stab of anger: How can she be away when I need her? When we all need her here?

He knew what he was doing. It was obvious. He was angry at himself for what happened with Autumn. And he was transferring his anger to Lea. Embarrassing to be so obvious.

Autumn, you missed all the excitement.

He thought about kissing her. Fucking her on top of his desk. Oh, Jesus.

The two police officers left. He saw two other cops in the driveway, working over the car. They had set up halogen spotlights on poles to light their work. Yellow crime tape had been stretched across the bottom of the front yard. Cars moved slowly on the street. Gawkers wondering what had happened there.

Mark shook his head and took a long sip of his Cruzan Single Barrel rum. The neighbors must have their binoculars out.

Luckily, the houses were far apart, separated by tall, old oak and sassafras trees and high evergreen hedges. Mark had no idea who his neighbors were.

Richard Hulenberger’s body had been removed. Wrapped and carried away in a silent ambulance. Now, gazing into the white halogen light, Mark saw that the car seats were on their backs on the lawn. One cop was leaning into the trunk, sweeping it with some kind of whirring device. A vacuum?

He gathered the four kids in the den while Roz went to feed and entertain Axl. The den had two brown, soft- leather couches at a ninety-degree angle against two walls, and a matching recliner chair, all facing a fifty-five-inch flat-screen TV mounted on the only wall without bookshelves.

A stack of glass shelves to the right of the TV screen held Lea’s stuffed-monkey collection, dozens of specimens. Lea wasn’t embarrassed to show off her monkeys. She told anyone who asked that growing up in a house jammed with so many kids, she never had room for any kind of collection. In a way, the mostly hideous monkeys were fulfilling a lifelong dream.

Samuel and Daniel sank into one couch and slumped down, looking uncomfortable, troubled. Elena took the recliner, sitting stiffly on the edge, not tilting back as she usually did. Ira perched next to her on one arm of the recliner.

Mark studied them for a few seconds. Elena wore freshly applied lip gloss. Ira had a tomato sauce stain on his chin.

“As you’ve probably figured out, something terrible happened in our driveway this afternoon. The man who was visiting me was murdered by someone.”

Elena rolled her eyes. “Dad, please-tell us something we don’t know.”

Mark’s impulse was to scold her for being so flip. But he quickly remembered that her attitude might be her way of dealing with something frightening.

“Elena, not appropriate.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t really know much about it,” he confessed, standing awkwardly in front of them as if giving a lecture. He had set down his glass but found himself craving another few sips of rum. “But if I can answer any questions. I know you must be upset. And maybe confused.”

Ira spoke up first. “Dad, did the killer mean to kill you?”

The question made him suck in a burst of air. Not a question he expected. “No. I. . don’t think so, Ira. The police didn’t have anything to say about that. I don’t think anyone wants to kill me.”

Ira screwed up his face, thinking hard. “But will the killer come in the house?”

“No,” Mark answered quickly, without wanting to think about that. “No one is coming in the house. We’re all safe here. You don’t have to be scared. We are all completely safe.”

Elena shifted her weight on the edge of the recliner. “Does this mean that Ruth-Ann can’t come for a sleepover Friday night?”

Mark blinked. Is she totally self-involved? Doesn’t she react at all to someone being murdered in front of her house? Maybe that’s a good thing.

“I don’t see any reason why Ruth-Ann can’t come Friday, Elena. But I think the news of what happened here will be out by then. We’ll have to talk with her parents.”

“Maybe she’ll be too scared to come over,” Ira suggested in a tiny voice.

Elena wrapped her hands over Ira’s shoulders. “Well, you’ll protect her-won’t you, big guy?”

Ira squirmed out from under her hands. “Shut up.”

“Don’t tease Ira,” Mark scolded.

“Sorry,” Elena murmured. She gave Ira a bump with her shoulder. “It’s just. . I’ll be so upset if we don’t have our sleepover. We’ve planned it for weeks.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Mark said.

And suddenly both twins were on their feet. Both with the same forlorn expressions.

Daniel’s eyes brimmed with tears. He took a tentative step toward Mark. “Can I have a hug?” In a tiny, high voice. He rushed into Mark’s open arms.

“Me too,” Samuel said. “Can I have a hug, please?”

Mark wrapped them both in a tight hug. He could feel their trembling bodies. They both made sniffling sounds.

Glancing over their heads, he caught Elena’s trembling-chinned expression. She was near tears, too. Not as skeptical as he thought. Ira sat with his arms crossed tightly in front of him, staring into the distance.

Mark tried to pull his arms away, but the boys clung to him.

“Hug,” Daniel said, burying his face in Mark’s shirt.

“Hug,” Samuel repeated.

34

Samuel closed the guesthouse door behind him, making sure it clicked shut. The two boys strode into their room. Each climbed onto one of the low twin beds, one against each wall. They stood up and bounced on the beds for a few moments, a gleeful trampoline act.

Bright lights set up by the police officers in the driveway broke the darkness outside their curtained window. The light swooped across the flowered wallpaper and caught the two boys as they leaped and bounced.

“Smoked meat,” Daniel said when they finally slumped to their beds.

“Smoked meat,” Samuel repeated. “There was Daniel being Daniel again.”

Daniel stuck his chin out defiantly. “Smoked meat. Smoked meat. Smoked meat.”

Samuel sighed. “Yes, the man was smoked meat. But-”

“This will keep Pa busy for a while.”

“I know, Daniel. But, we just got here. Perhaps we need to go slow.”

Daniel giggled. “You loved it, too, laddy. I saw your eyes shine. You wanted a taste of that smoked meat.”

Samuel bounced lightly on the bed. “Don’t be making a joke, Daniel. We don’t eat smoked meat anymore- remember?”

Daniel giggled again. “Did you put the blowtorch back where we got it?”

Samuel nodded. “Sure, I did. But I don’t really understand why we needed it, boyo.”